


modern jesus

by taketheblanket



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Divergent, Don't Like Don't Read, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Gladignoct, IgNoct, M/M, PromCor, Unhealthy Relationships, lunyx, ships in future chapters include:, tags added with each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-29 04:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13919514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taketheblanket/pseuds/taketheblanket
Summary: Gladio reflects, trying to see the warning signs that the Crownsguard was bound to spin out of control.Far from home, wounded by tragedy, restless for escape, they find themselves slipping into a lifestyle they hardly recognize.It just feels too good to resist.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags! Please be aware this is intended to be a dark story.

_Snakes are biting at my heels, the worries that refuse to let us go_

_I’ve been kicking them away, been hoping not to let them take control_

_Ooh, I’m not ready-- drink to escape their bites_

_Show me distraction, even for just one night_

_'Cause it's easier to bury my head in the sand sometimes_

_And I know, I know, I know it's not the right way to go_

_But I pray for the ground to swallow me whole_

  
\---

It’s hard to pin the exact moment their problem began.

Looking back, Gladio can find a hundred red flags. Well, maybe not. After all, even white flags can look red through rose-tinted glasses.

The first moment Gladio saw Noctis, really _saw Noct,_ was the second night of his bachelor party. It had been Gladio’s idea to spend a few days camping on their way to Altissia, an excuse to drink and fish in Lucis one last time before the four of them relocated to Tenebrae for the first several months of Noct’s arranged marriage. With nowhere to go and little to do, the fireside booze flowed freely, their laughter echoing across rocky crags before being lost to the starry sky for good.

He had glanced Noct’s way in the middle of a particular animated story from Prompto to find his liege was already watching him. Noct was staring at Gladio with direct, wet eyes, something flashing in their depth. It was almost like the Prince appeared on the mat, sword in hand, awaiting advance, but there, _then_ , weaponless and small in the vastness of nature, the campfire reflected in his eyes looked more like terror than determination. He parted his lips as if to say something to Gladio, but closed them without doing so. That look, such open vulnerability, so startled Gladio that his bottle slipped from his hand, meeting the ground with a startling crack. Foamy brew splattered across his friends and the spell had been broken. When he looked Noct’s way again, the Prince was present once more, laughing and teasing his wet-clothed companions, but Gladio would never dislodge that unspoken plea from the depths of his mind.

When the Regalia broke down on the third day, everyone moaned in disappointed surprise, except for Noct, who watched the car roll to a stop out the window with a blank face. The four men climbed out of the car to inspect the engine, and Noct sat down in the middle of the road, like he knew the car wouldn’t start again, like he hoped another car may come along in the meantime and not notice the black cat of a Prince curled up beside the wheel hub.

“Someone here cut the oil line,” Cindy explained. “Y’all got enemies on yer tail or sumtin?”

It was an ominous question that could have foretold the tragedy to come, but instead Gladio remembers the way Noct’s fingers twitched at his side, miming a small pair of scissors, and a satisfying _snip._

With shame, Ignis had to admit between the car and the abundance of alcohol they’d been consuming, they’d used up all of their travel funds, and they wouldn’t be able to wire money from Insomnia until they reached the international bank in Altissia. This resulted in the guys picking up their very first hunt for the owner of the cafe next to the garage.

Despite everything that has happened since, Gladio can recall that first hunt like it was yesterday. The job was to take out a pack of Sabretusks that had been making dents in important herds of readily consumed Anaklaban. Despite years of combat training, it was the first time any of the men had turned their weapons on a living creature. The Shield remembers watching Noct’s every move, critical as a coach, concerned as a Shield. He couldn’t help but think Noct was having a little too much fun, warping too far from Gladio’s circle of influence, letting Sabretusks throw him to the ground repeatedly before zipping off once more. Noct was more than capable, but he was being careless. As a team, they were sloppy at best, and an emergency stash of recovery potions were necessary after putting the last beast down. The four men toasted before cracking their bottles, and Gladio’s eyes were on Noct as he trembled, beneath the onslaught that was four people simultaneously tapping into the Crystal-given healing magic he vesseled in his small body.

“Feels good,” Prompto, who had never used a potion before, mused aloud. The shooting range resulted in less injury than the spar mat, and he watched his fingertips with fascination as they twinkled blue and faded with his repair. Ignis, Gladio, Noctis, somewhat more familiar with the experience, did not respond, too preoccupied by a different sort of rush pumping through their veins.

Ignis looked down at his blood-splattered fatigues, meeting Gladio’s eyes with a cryptic look, that at the time, Gladio had been unable to read. When Gladio turned to study Noct, he was startled by the man he saw standing before him. Even through the viscous mask of animal blood the Prince wore, Gladio could see it in his eyes, the cautious curl at the corner of his mouth: Noct _liked_ killing. He remembers ripping his eyes away from the dangerous site of his feral Prince to take in his Advisor, the sharpshooter once more. Slowly, shamefully, broad smiles cracked across the Crownsguard’s faces. They _all_ liked it. A lot more than any of them expected to.

That night they collected their bounty from Takka. Noct, Prompto and Gladio played an hour of King’s Knight sitting around the plastic table outside of Cid’s caravan while Ignis disappeared into Takka’s kitchen to watch him cook and exchange recipes. When he returned, Takka had gifted him an eighth, and Ignis rolled two thick joints beneath a tired yellow street lamp.

The thing about weed was that it always seemed to help Gladio acknowledge the things that he’d been looking past. At least it used to, back when they rarely smoked it. Back then, sharing a joint with his friends would help him disturb the surface, dig up the things buried shallowly beneath. Now, _well..._ now Gladio’s not sure there’s anything left to unearth between the four of them, or maybe, they’ve simply smoked too much.

Whatever it was, it had been that night, toasted and stoned, that Gladio caught his first glimpse at a different prophecy.

“Looking forward to the wedding?” Prompto asks. “Lunafreya is a bombshell. _And_ an incredible person. You’re a pretty lucky man.”

Noct lowered his beer before taking a sip, glaring at Prompto across the table. The Heir Apparent usually responded to comments regarding his engagement with terse, apathetic answers, but none of his characteristic temper graced his face and Gladio watched with curiousity.

“Have you ever slept with a woman, Your Highness?” Ignis inquired with a teasing tone.

Noct shifted his gaze to Ignis. His mouth fell open in weak shock, but he was too high to be bothered by their questions and he simply let out a long sigh, setting down his drink.

“You should know I haven’t,” Noct said to Ignis. To prove his point, he turned in his seat to face Gladio and ask, “When the last time you escorted me on a date?”

“I think you were… twelve,” Gladio recalled. “You took that cute little girl with the two braids to the ice cream shop. You made me stand outside in the rain because you were too embarrassed to let me follow you in.”

“Last date,” Noct says, a self-deprecating smile on his face.

“Well, _yeah,_ ” Prompto said. “I mean, not your type.”

Ignis chuckled. Prompto grinned. Noctis took a long drink of his beer, watching Gladio from the corner of his eye. In an instant, understanding bloomed in him. Clearly the last of Noct’s men to piece together that the Prince is gay, something akin to heartache briefly flooded Gladio before the drug smoothed his edges once more.

“Arranged marriages often behave as political friendships,” Ignis said. “Aside from our teasing, I wouldn’t let it worry you too much.”

“I’m not worried,” Noct replied, his eyes crawling over Gladio as if to seek his understanding, but looking away before Gladio could promise that he did.

The next morning, Noct insisted they take another hunt before leaving to Hammerhead, and by the time they arrived at Galdin Quay in the early evening, all of the boats had left the harbor. A nomadic-looking stranger had intercepted them, but it was too early in their story for any of them to realize what a threat the man possessed.

As they retreated to the resort, Noct had laughed, “I bet that guy had some drugs we could buy.”

He had probably been right.

They took an easy hunt and collected a considerable bounty after the satisfaction of cracking shells on the shoreline. They smoked weed on the dock, watching Noct fish. They were to leave the next day and the four men enjoyed a final night as a bachelor Prince and his carefree friends, before their lives changed for good.

The surreal experience that is the current nightmare of their life began with a single headline the following morning.

**INSOMNIA FALLS**

Just like that, a bachelor party ended, and an odyssey began.

Looking back, Gladio isn’t sure any of them really processed what happened. Maybe they had all been looking for an escape when they hit the road, and the promise of never being able to return home was an answer to a silent prayer they had been making with every mile of pavement they rolled out between them and their childhoods. It wouldn’t be until years later, upon returning to the battered skeleton of the Crown City, that Noct and Gladio would realize it had always been their selfish hope that ruin would befall their hometown.

No one knew better than Gladio how much Noct resented his station. While Gladio had grown to feel pride for his fate as an Amicitia, it took many years to swallow the fact that he had been born to die for another, that his life was intended to be less valuable than Noctis’ was. Noct struggled in different ways. He didn’t like to be valuable. He hated having servants. He didn’t like the way people treated him like glass, too precious for pain. The spar mat gave the two of them a perfect outlet for the frustrations offered by the Crown. There, Gladio could ensure Noct would be strong enough that the Shield would live a long life, and there, Noct found someone to beat him mercilessly whenever he craved it.

The older they got, the less they saw their fathers, the less their existence as royal children made any sense. By the time Iris was five years old, Jared and Gladio shared the responsibility of getting her fed in the morning, ready for school and Gladio got used to only seeing Clarus briefly on the weekends. By the time Noct was fourteen, his King-father had missed four scheduled dinners with his son in a row, and Noct made the decision to move out of the Palace. In his apartment on the other side of town, it was easy to pretend they weren’t their father’s sons, and maybe that’s where the damn severing began in the first place.

Knowing that Iris, Jared and Talcott were safe in Lestallum, it was hard to care about those they had lost back in Insomnia. They had been lost to them for so many years before.

When they caught up with Cor, Gladio and Noctis were too numb to even notice Prompto vanish with the Marshal for several hours. They sat in a dingy booth at the Crow’s Nest for what felt like days, listening to Ignis map out possible strategies for approaching the massive war and obscure future that now awaited them.

“The King of _what?”_ Noct had called himself in the royal tomb a few hours before.

When Cor and the King of Nothing descended into the belly of the earth to declare war on an Imperial stronghold, Gladio knew his heart wasn’t in it. Noct was just looking for an excuse to kill someone. And he found it, of course, but his Crystal-given claim to Insomnia was but a convenient excuse to spill a little blood and shake that all-encompassing numbness that had rapidly begun to consume them.

And then the assassination attempts began.

Their clothes were still soaked through, hit by the waterfall during their narrow escape from the cave behind it, when Prompto cried out clear and sharp through the group.

“Imperials!” he said. “Above us!”

All four men turned their eyes to the sky as a rectangular ship hovered above them. The hatch on the container lowers, the glowing eyes of engineered Niflheim androids zeroing in on the discovered Lucians. Noctis manifested his new sword in his hand, white-knuckling the hilt as he barreled towards combat.

They were utterly unprepared. Gladio spent more time reviving his men than he spent swinging his broadsword. Twice, they tried to flee, only to be stopped by Magitek soldiers from behind. When Noctis hobbled through the battlefield, too drained to even warp to safety, Gladio had to charge to him, shouting as he barely blocked a staff aimed for the young King’s head.

It felt like it took hours, and they were all shaking from potion abuse by the end of it. Everyone except for Prompto, who laid unconscious in middle of the road, glowing red where Noctis slumped over him.

“We used nearly our entire supply of curatives,” Ignis said, his words feigning composure although Gladio could see clearly the tremble in his hands as he fidgeted with his gloves.

“Yeah, and my sword didn’t really hold up through all that slashing,” he added, running a thumb over the dull, chipped edge.

“We can’t go to the Disc tomorrow,” Noctis said solemnly, his eyes not leaving Prompto’s face while he waited for signs of life. “We aren’t ready.”

No one argued.

\----

They’d been living in Lestallum (or in a tent just outside of Lestallum) for nearly two months. The Regalia sat parked on the turn-about just outside of town, collecting dust. They fell into a natural rhythm as the city’s hunters. They usually had a job by breakfast, and they made plenty of gil to upgrade all of their weapons. They kept themselves in enough potions that they were willing to take on more than one hunt a day, resulting in _more_ gil and the impulse to spend it...

They _were_ improving though, Gladio admitted that much. Taking the time to hunt and train was benefiting all of them. Prompto had developed quite a headshot, and Noctis had been stealing Gladio away in the mornings for additional practice. As a team, they were becoming incredibly skilled, able to work off each other and defeat a target in a few wordless minutes.

So that’s how Gladio rationalized away the increasing frequency with which the four boys found themselves in town after sundown, drinking and prowling.

Well, Gladio usually did the prowling.

He tried not to think about it as a distraction, although he knew the time spent crawling through the alleyways with other men ultimately took him away from Noctis. Still the King wasn’t protection-less with Prompto and Ignis at his side. Plus, if Gladio was going to stay sane, he needed the outlet somewhere. Since the crisis of Insomnia, Noct has begun to request morning spars, hungry and desperate for the release that came from being bodily thrown to the ground. But grappling and grunting and sweating on each other started to drive Gladio mad and if he didn’t find his release with someone, he was going to make a mistake. He was doing this to protect Noctis, to subdue the inappropriate feelings he’s felt towards the other man since they were teens.

At least, that’s what he told himself. It didn’t change the fact that every time Gladio sought release, his eyes shut against the effort, he saw only one face, two bright blue eyes looking back at him through the darkness.

That’s why he couldn’t not help but play the game when those azure orbs locked on him across the bar on yet another drunken evening in town. Noctis leveled him with the same challenging look he always gave him before they launched at each other, weapons drawn, and Gladio could never resist showing Noctis a thing or two. If he was going to make pretty eyes at a guy across the bar, Gladio was going to show him what happened. He bought Noct another drink and he watched the King suck it down, as deceptively strong as this felt easy.

Noctis’ cheeks were pink with intoxication, his eyes twinkling as he studied his Shield. His tongue kept darting out to lick across his bottom lip and Gladio’s cock stiffened to imagine the things he could do with that tongue. Gladio bought him _another_ drink when Ignis was in the bathroom and Noctis smirked at him around the rim of the glass in a knowing way. Gladio’s hand shook where he clutches his scotch, trying to imagine what was supposed to come next.

They had been undressing each other with their eyes for an hour when Gladio decided he was making a mistake. Noct was not his, at least not in _that way_ , and he should not spend the time indulging this shameful fantasy of his. He had a duty to the Chosen King, and he knew these feelings of his would only complicate matters.

Gladio excused himself. Noct watched him go.

Standing in the bathroom, Gladio splashed cold water on his face and neck and tried to compose himself. Still painfully hard in his leather pants, he considered crossing over to the other side of the bar to catch the eye of someone that he _could_ indulge with. When he turned to leave, Gladio had to stop short not to bowl over the shorter person standing behind him at the sink.

“Sorry--” he began, but was cut short when he realized who it was. “Noct..?”

Noctis’ eyes dipped momentarily to the telling outline of Gladio’s arousal before they rose to his face once more. Gladio tried not to blush.

“Hey,” Noct said. “I’m drunk.”

 _Well, yes, he would be_ , Gladio thought to himself, looking down at his King. _Three drinks in that little body._ And then, _I’m supposed to protect him_ and _my fault._

Gladio reached a hand out, suddenly ashamed, to lay on Noctis’ shoulder. He wanted to apologize, but Noctis misinterpreted the gesture, grabbing his wrist and dragging Gladio into an open stall.

“Noct!” Gladio tried to stop him with his voice, but his body followed Noctis’ every demand as he leaned him back against the bathroom stall and unfastened his belt.

“Shh,” Noctis told him. “You’re drunk.”

And with Noct untucking Gladio’s heavy desire, he found that he had nothing to say anyway.

He swallowed Gladio with an enthusiasm that made up for his inexperience. They did not take their eyes off of each other, and Gladio’s flitted between his watery blue eyes, his red lips stretched around Gladio’s flesh and the pink cock being jerked between Noct’s thighs. Gladio never saw it coming, but it didn’t feel complicated once they were there. With Noctis on his knees, worshipping the cock that always worshipped him, Gladio felt like nothing had ever made more sense.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis enters the equation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^TRIGGER WARNINGS ^ Please read the tags! This is intended to be a dark story.

When he was nineteen years old, the Shield fell in love with his Prince.

Noct turned sixteen and suddenly he didn’t just fight like a man, he looked like one too. Sure, Noctis could be petulant, and a little apathetic at the wrong times, but on the spar mat he would give Gladio a wicked smile that that drew him in like a siren call. The longer he was forced to follow Noctis around as his job, the the more Gladio found himself wanting to. Gladio spent the next several years telling himself nothing good would come from acting on his desires for Noctis. He kept his distance when he chaperoned. A bodyguard, not a friend. He only touched him on the mat. He punished inappropriate daydreams with obsessive workouts, ruthlessly building layers of muscle, a shrine to obedience, so dedicated to the mission of not looking at the Noctis the wrong way, that Gladio missed him looking back. 

Gladio built a wall between his Prince and himself as tall and as wide as the one that surrounded their city. Nothing got out, nothing got in. But if Gladio had learned anything from the countless stories he read, he would have known both walls would inevitably come crumbling down.

After the first drunken blowjob, there were countless alcohol-induced hook-ups to follow. They played the game much like one would a stranger, with hungry eyes and demanding hands and little conversation. Nearly every night since the first, Gladio found himself between Noctis and a wall, all frantic hands and lips beneath the belt. 

Noctis was somewhat inexperienced, but he was a fast learner. He always had been, when he was motivated. Gladio wasn’t sure he'd ever seen Noctis as motivated as he was on his knees sucking cock, stretching his mouth wide and beckoning Gladio deeper into his throat through silent, pleading eyes. Gladio had showed Noctis how to hold his first sword when they were boys, and now as men, Gladio showed him how to hold a cock, how to cup his balls while he teased the tip, how to unhinge his jaw and swallow the head while he stroked the shaft. Noct’s hands and mouth were always disorientingly hot compared to their small size. Noctis’ hands and mouth always felt better than they had any right to.

He had been wrong though, thinking that a relationship with Noct would weaken them. They simply were stronger together. During the days that followed, Noctis trained and fought like he was trying to impress Gladio alone, and the fire Gladio saw there made his desire to protect his King twice as strong. 

Plus, Noctis was far less likely to wander off if Gladio let him stand near his body. After a few days with alcohol as an excuse, Noct began making moves on Gladio when they were sober. They would wrestle and grope each other during morning spars, and throughout the day Noct’s fingers would dip beneath the waistband of Gladio’s pants behind their backs or under the table where no one could see, pinching and scratching Gladio until he couldn’t stand it any longer and the Shield would drag Noct somewhere private to fuck his face or eat his ass or any of the other things the coach taught his pupil during their quick indulgences. 

Back then, Gladio thought they were falling in love. Really, they had already begun to fall apart. Gladio was swept up beneath the surreal waves of his deeply concealed fantasy coming to life. At the time, it had felt like if he opened his mouth, he would most certainly drown. 

They should have talked. About their fathers. About the mission the late King and Shield left for them. They shouldn’t have immediately buried the trauma of a blooming war with the indulgence of quick sexual release. Gladio often combs their history in the archive of his mind, looking for the place he should have stopped Noctis, pulled him back to his feet, demanded a conversation. Gladio should have asked about the Regalia breaking down. He should have told him it was okay to be scared. He should have told him they would be okay as long as they were together. He should have asked if Noct was in love with him too. He should have kissed him. 

Maybe it was the same shame that kept Gladio from pursuing Noct when they were younger. Deep down, he knew this behavior was unshieldly. It felt, in a way, like he’d broken his oath to protect Noctis a long time ago. Maybe that’s why this all happened the way it did. 

He should have _at least_ kissed him, but it just didn’t feel like he deserved to. 

A month after they began messing around, they found themselves alone in a hotel room while Ignis did groceries and Prompto did only-the-Six-knew. Gladio was usually so attentive, hyper-vigilant even, but the way Noctis moaned around his cock made the blood rush past his ears and Gladio didn’t hear Ignis coming until it was too late. 

The door clicked open and Gladio gasped as he meets Ignis’ gaze. Noctis turned around on the floor to face him, unhurried. Gladio had to pull Noct’s hand off of his dick to frantically put himself away. 

After a stuttering pause, Ignis shut the door and took a few cool steps into the room. Gladio could not see his eyes behind the glare on his spectacles. Horrified that he’d been caught in his lifelong shame, he stood like a deer in Ignis’ headlights.

Leaving a frozen Gladio behind him, Noct climbed to his feet and closed the distance between them. His heart pounding in his chest, Gladio watched as Noctis kissed Ignis with his still-swollen lips. 

Gladio could not look away from the image as his two brothers fell into one another. His cock was still hard, despite the shock of being discovered and Gladio watched closely as Ignis’s shoulders softened beneath Noct’s grip. He was stunned breathless by the way Ignis parted his lips to let Noctis, and the taste of Gladio, into his mouth. 

With a dull thunk of heartache, Gladio realized that Ignis had been in love with Noctis for much longer than Gladio had. In the way Noct’s hands tightened in the front of Ignis’ shirt, in the desperate way he kissed his Advisor, his long-time companion, it was apparent Noctis was in love him too. Gladio tore his eyes away and left the room; he owed them that much.

Gladio shoved his novel into his back pocket so he could catch Prompto as he stumbled into the lobby of the Inn two hours later. He was laughing. There was something off about him, but he did not notice the bandana tied around his inner arm. Gladio hooked one of Prompto’s arms over his shoulder and helped him upstairs. He knocked, _loudly_ on the room’s door and Ignis answered, holding the door open for Gladio as he helped their intoxicated friend inside. Noctis lay sprawled out and asleep on top of the bed he shared with Gladio, and Ignis avoided Gladio’s gaze. 

The four men went through the motions of dinner and card games around the table. Conversation was routine and practiced, and never approached Noctis’ dodgy behavior, Ignis’ unspoken feelings, Gladio’s bitter surprise, or Prompto’s worsening habit. 

\---

The following morning, Noctis was struck with a headache and chose to remain in bed instead of getting up to train. Gladio didn’t mind the solitude, his own head hurt from turning the same thoughts over again and again. _Noctis, Ignis, love, responsibility, duty, lust._ He ran until he couldn’t run any longer, and then he turned around and walked back the way he came. 

Exercise brought him no clarity. 

He needed to talk to Ignis. As much as he was dreading the conversation, Ignis was the only one who would be able to help him process what exactly was happening, but by the time he returned to the room, the rest of the guys were up and ordering breakfast at the cafe, and they were afforded no privacy. Shortly after he joined the group at the table, Ignis asked the same question over breakfast he asked every day: 

“What's on the agenda today, Noct?” 

Noctis shrugged from behind his mug of sweetened, cream-colored coffee. He always answered the same way. 

“Hunt.” 

This time, Ignis had a follow-up question. He explored Gladio’s eyes briefly before directing the question to their King, and Gladio’s heart was left pounding in his wake. 

“When are we going to Duscae, Your Highness?” 

A weighted silence fell over the group. Noctis stared back at Ignis, challenging eyes shielded beneath his bangs for a long moment. Gladio wondered what Noctis had been saying to Ignis through that heated stare. Prompto’s phone broke the mood, buzzing across the tabletop.

“Soon,” Noct answered. “When I'm ready.” 

Distantly, even then, Gladio knew that Noctis would _never_ be ready for what awaited him. 

Prompto stood. Looking down at his phone, the gunslinger mumbled an excuse Gladio could not remember. Prompto vanished from sight for several hours, leaving Ignis, Gladio, and Noctis to complete a hunt without him for the first time.

It was relieving to be on a hunt, to fall into roles they all excelled in. For a few hours, Gladio understood where everyone belonged, what was expected of him, how to move in conjunction with Noctis and Ignis. The gig was harder than anticipated, it would have been nice to have a marksman, but they were growing as fighters and Gladio was satisfied with their improving skill. 

With a flown dagger sunk deeply in its leg, Ignis brought the beast to its knees, and Noctis’ voice cried out clear across the battlefield. 

“Gladio!” 

Gladio gripped his sword and hurled it around him, letting the weight of the weapon pull him off of the ground before he swung it down and landed on the beast. Seconds later, Noct warped in and finished the animal with a blow to the head. Gladio was watching his execution with selfish pride when Noctis turned and jogged his way. The sight of him, even amongst all of Eos’ glory, took Gladio’s breath away. 

The Prince was adorned by a perfect crimson butterfly on his face, blooming from two handprints of blood. Small handprints, Noct’s own, pressed against his nose and mouth after a kill, like he was disappointed he hadn’t gotten blood on his face yet, like he wanted to smell it, or taste it. The King cames to a stand still, just inches away from Gladio, their bodies radiating heat in the small pocket of air between them, despite the chill of the air. Gladio remembers that moment as the first time he saw a flash of tragic pink in Noctis’ beautiful eyes. 

The King pushed up on his toes to kiss him, open-mouthed and feral from the thrill of the hunt. Struck by disbelief, Gladio’s arms hung useless at his sides. 

And then he was gone, warping off, Noct and his engine blade both humming with glee as they sought another victim. His lips still wet with blood, Gladio’s eyes met Ignis’ across the field. Ignis held the gaze, adjusted his glasses, refastened his gloves. Gladio remembers that too. 

That afternoon, they collected their bounty and ate outside of the inn. Prompto seemed pretty normal, if he’s recalling correctly. His eyes were a little red; maybe he had been crying. Gladio didn’t get a chance to investigate. They decided to camp to save some of the gil they’d just made, and so Prompto and Noctis disappeared to buy potions before they left town. 

As soon as Ignis and Gladio were alone at the table, Ignis set his steely gaze on Gladio, imploring him to begin. 

Gladio sighed deeply, laying his hands flat out on the surface of the table, as if to show Ignis he had nothing to hide. 

He tried and failed three times to speak, not sure even where to start. Ignis was patient, sipping at his Ebony quietly, refusing to speak himself. Finally, Gladio found the question he felt like he should ask. 

“Did you and Noct… talk at all? Last night?” 

“Briefly. He told me things started between you and him a couple of weeks ago.” 

Gladio grunted in confirmation, but wasn’t sure where to go next. Ignis did it for him. 

“And then His Highness didn’t want to talk anymore,” Ignis said evenly, “and we occupied ourselves in... less verbal ways.” 

A confused jolt of arousal swelled in Gladio’s belly at the insinuation, his hands falling away from the table to rub anxiously over his thighs. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to, or even allowed, to ask for more details. He didn’t know how to navigate any of this, and he let the uncertainty color his words when he spoke. 

“That was the first time he kissed me,” Gladio said. “Today.”

“Ah,” was Ignis’ entire response. 

Finally, Gladio asked the question that has been weighing him down from the moment he watched Ignis melt into Noctis’ kiss the day before. 

“Are you okay with this? With… sharing him?” 

Ignis’ face was a careful mask of composure, Gladio knew him well enough to see the minute softening in the corners of his eyes. 

“We’ve always shared him,” Ignis answered, matter-of-factly. 

And that was that. 

\---

Ignis has always been Gladio’s favorite colleague. He was smart, and good at conversation. When they could stand next to each other at briefings, they would make each other laugh, soft spoken jokes usually at Noctis' expense behind his back. 

In a way, Gladio idolized Ignis back then. He usually had already read whatever book Gladio was working through. He was composed and collected in the face of complex courts matters. He was diligent, and loyal to their Prince. Both qualities Gladio prided in himself. While Gladio and Noctis struggled with the purpose of their lives, the Shield looked to Ignis as an example of fealty, duty, and hard work. Years later, on the other side of the Wall, Gladio would come to learn Ignis was just as lost as the rest of them. 

He was just better at hiding it. 

About a week later, they had collected bounty off two hunts at the output outside of Lestallum and the sunset was still a few hours off. Prompto had peeled off down the road to walk and “take photos.” Ignis and Noctis headed back to the camper so Gladio hung back to squeeze his workout in. He grinded through several hundred reps and bathed in the waterfall by the cave. 

When he returned to the camper, Gladio hesitated with his fist at the door. He and Noctis had continued to take advantage of every moment of solitude they managed and he could only assume the same was happening with Ignis, although admittedly the trio remained tight lipped. They had yet to speak about any of it. 

Whenever Noctis kissed him, Gladio thought he may never need to speak again. 

He tried to listen through the caravan door, but despite the thin tin of camper walls, he did not hear anything incriminating. Gladio let out a deeply held breath. He knew he should knock, but an intriguing flare of arousal built in him when he considered the chance of catching them in the act. 

He tried the handle. Unlocked. 

Gladio hadn't been expecting what he found. 

Ignis was leaning over the table, propped up on his elbows, head hung low. Noctis stood behind him, forehead pressed into Ignis’s shoulder blades while humped into him. Noctis turned his red face to take in Gladio’s shocked expression. He will never forget what Noctis looked like, his bangs wet with sweat and pasted to his forehead, panting through his mouth like he does when they spar. Noct stood up straight to watch Gladio enter the camper. He did not stop thrusting into Ignis and the other man let slip a low groan and that Gladio’s sure was accidental. 

He shut the door and locked it. 

Moving slowly, Gladio took a seat on the bench beside them. The camper was small and no where he put himself would be far enough away that he would not smell their sweat, feel the camper sway. He and Noctis had done nothing like this. There had been no penetration beyond Gladio’s tongue or a curious fingertip exploring Noctis’ tight rim. Ignis apparently brought something else out in the young King. Noctis dropped his head, pressing his face into Ignis’ back. He growled against the sweat soaked fabric of Ignis’ shirt. 

Gladio unzipped his jeans. 

When Gladio took his cock in his hand, Noctis stood up to watch him, small hands falling to Ignis’ hips as he pulled into him deeply. Noctis was staring at him as Gladio became fully erect, a hungry and open look on his face that Gladio would have found odd, at the time. But he was not looking at Noct, didn’t see him. He could not take his eyes off of Ignis, where his bitten lips were parted softly and low moans trickled forth. His glasses set folded on the table several feet away, but his hair was messed from Noctis’ inconsiderate hands. Never had Gladio seen Ignis like this-- ruffled, exposed. He felt it in his cock and squeezed himself in his hand. 

Noctis buried himself into Ignis, collapsing over his body once more and forcing Ignis to hold up his weight while he jerks his hips erratically into him. As their liege emptied himself inside of him with a long moan, Ignis finally lifted his wet eyes to meet Gladio’s patient gaze.

Noctis pulled out of him with little ceremony. Gladio watched him for clues, but Noct hid his face from him, yawning into his shoulder. Zipping himself away, he said “I'm tired,” and walked to the bed at the back of the camper. So subtle Gladio almost missed it, Ignis rolled his eyes and pulled his pants up to conceal his bare ass. 

Ignis sat down at the table across from Gladio. The two men finished themselves, hands and eyes dutifully in their own laps. Gladio had to swallow the groan in his throat as he came. His eyes slid just enough to watch Ignis finish with his teeth worrying his bottom lip. 

And then, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, Ignis rose to fetch two beers from the cooler. Gladio opened them and handed a bottle back to his companion, who finished fixing his hair in the mirror before taking it. They sat at the table and drank in silence for a few minutes, the sound of Noctis’ breathing from the back of the camper indicating his deep sleep. 

“He doesn't know any better,” Gladio found himself saying. 

“You don't have to defend him,” Ignis replied. 

Neither of them jump when there's a tug on the camper door, but Ignis took one last sweeping look at the scene of their crime while Gladio went to Prompto’s aid. Looking back at him, his hand hovered over the doorknob and Ignis nodded once. Gladio let him in. 

“Wow, it's fucking hot in here!” Prompto said. His inappropriate volume woke Noctis, who groaned loudly from the bed in protest. He collapsed in the bench seat, singing his friend the opposite of a lullaby. Gladio studied him for a moment, trying to figure out what exactly he’d been getting up to during his ever-more frequent disappearances, but it was hard to care when his own life was as unpredictable and uncourteous as Prompto’s behavior. 

“I'll be starting dinner then,” Ignis announced. 

Gladio held his breath when Ignis slid past his body in the narrow hallway. He watched him until disappeared outside. Prompto nudged him in the leg. He looked clearly intoxicated as he tipped forward on the seat and said to Gladio,

“We’ve all got secrets, Big Guy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curious about what Prompto is up to? Stay tuned for chapter 3.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I will try to keep this story updated regularly. Come yell at me on twitter @taketheblanket. 
> 
> Title of the fic taken from "Modern Jesus" by Portugal. The Man  
> Lyrics at the beginning of the fic are "Snakes" by Bastille 
> 
> I have a playlist for this fic [ on spotify. ](https://open.spotify.com/user/yi5rj9vo7o9231si2b4d44h1l/playlist/16B0cWaB6uEIchcfcK5wqo?si=EH648bVUSkOwhw0cjncITg)


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